


Healthy Competition

by imunbreakabledude



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Post-Season/Series 04, most characters from the show appear briefly, not sure if West Covina counts as a small town but dang if it isn't quirky, quirky small town antics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 12:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22716325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imunbreakabledude/pseuds/imunbreakabledude
Summary: When Rebetzel's gets matched up versus Mountaintop in Home Base's charity softball showcase, Rebecca and Nathaniel try to top each other in how not-weird they can be about the situation.(Written for notbang as part of the Crazy Ex-Girlfriend Valentine Exchange)
Relationships: Rebecca Bunch/Nathaniel Plimpton
Comments: 13
Kudos: 19
Collections: Crazy Ex Girlfriend Valentine Exchange 2020





	Healthy Competition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notbang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notbang/gifts).



> Part of the [Crazy Ex-Girlfriend Valentine Exchange!](https://crazyexvalentine.tumblr.com/) This is my first time writing for this fandom, so I hope it turned out alright!

Rebecca is closing the oven on a fresh batch of cinnamon sugar pretzels when she hears Heather’s trademark flat “Hey” and rushes over to the counter. 

“Hey, Heath!” Rebecca greets her.

“As I’ve told you about three thousand and four hundred times, my name is Heath-er,” Heather slaps a clipboard down on the counter. “Got a second to talk about how you as a small business owner can contribute to the West Covina community?”

“Giving back to the West Covina community is literally everything I dreamed of when I became a small business owner,” Rebecca replies. “Well, that and unlimited pretzels. I eat a lot of my own pretzels. Probably too many. Anyways, continue.”

“So, my latest brilliant idea for Home Base is that we’re going to host a charity softball tournament where local businesses can field teams and people will pay to come watch their favorite businesses humiliate themselves or maybe be actually good at softball. Either way, it’s not important, the main goal is to raise money for the West Covina Middle school so they can get their arts budget back. They haven’t had a band in like, three years. There’s no crappy music to distract from the crappy football team. It’s pretty depressing.”

“Okay, count me double-in, because I’ve been concerned about those poor middle schoolers and their access to the arts ever since I moved here, and also because quirky local softball tournament is the plot of all of my favorite episodes of TV.”

“Wow you are an easier sell than most people,” Heather replies, offering the clipboard with the signup form to Rebecca. “Most other business owners make me go through the whole spiel about how it’s good advertising, and the time and money spent can count as tax-deductible…”

“Triple in, then, because we really need more traffic here at Rebetzel’s. My latest marketing campaign has not been paying off as I wanted it to. Would you believe that only two people came to my pretzel-themed cabaret night?”

“That’s exactly the number I would’ve guessed.” 

“Done!” Rebecca says, finishing her signature on the form with a flourish. “Oh, there’s so much planning to be done. We need cute uniforms. And a team mascot. Where’s my planning music? Siri, play the _Damn Yankees_ Original Broadway Cast Recording.”

“Thanks, that’s great,” Heather says, as the overture begins pouring out from Rebecca’s bluetooth speaker.. “But also just remember the game’s in two weeks, and you need a full team, okay? Let me know once your roster is full.”

“Who are we playing against?” Rebecca asks, leaning the entire front half of her body over the counter eagerly.

“Once I get all the businesses signed up I’ll let you know.”

AJ returns from the bathroom, putting his apron back on. “AJ, would you say you’re more of a pitcher or a catcher?”

“Um, inappropriate? What are we even talking about?”

“Rebetzel’s is officially joining the Home Base charity softball tournament and we. Need. You!” Rebecca says, poking AJ in the chest on each of the last three words.

“I’m not going anywhere near a softball game. No thank you,” he shakes his head. “Well, nowhere near the field. I will attend and hold up a sign with an encouraging slogan if it counts as paid hours.”

“Seems fair to me,” Rebecca replies, then begins singing along to “Six Months Out of Every Year”.

* * *

  
Nathaniel stretches out tape measure to make sure his desk decorations are perfectly spaced. It would be a crime if his favorite picture of him and Paco (the most adorable monkey from Guatemala), were not displayed exactly at center where it belongs, but he’s interrupted by a knock at his office door.

Really? He’s only been back for an hour and already, someone needs his attention as the boss?

Man, it’s good to be back in the business world.

“Come in,” he says, practicing his most lawyerly tone has hasn’t had to use much in the past six months, but it fills his throat with its pleasing authoritative warmth.

Heather steps inside, holding a clipboard. “Hey Nathaniel. Is Bert in?”

“No, but I can help you. I am still a co-owner of Mountaintop.”

“Yeah, it’s just that, you like just got back after a year, so I didn’t want to bother you–”

“Whatever it is, I’m qualified to handle it.” He needs to reassert his position as boss, so this is a perfect chance.

“And this really seems like something Bert would be more into than you…”

“Just spit it out already.”

“There’s the Nathaniel I know,” Heather says with an uncomfortable smile. “Home Base is looking for local businesses to sponsor teams for our charity softball tournament.”

Nathaniel bites his tongue to stop from automatically scoffing at how frivolous the idea sounds, reminding himself that even though this sounds a lot more vain and impractical than his work on the ground in Guatemala, it’s still for a good cause and therefore, part of his driving goal to do good in the world. For whatever reason. God, he’s such a sap now, but it feels good.

“Perfect. We’ll do it.”

“You don’t even want to know what it’s raising money for?”

“Doesn’t matter to me. If it’s a good cause, I support it. I’m a good person.”

“Thanks,” Heather says, sounding a bit surprised, and passing him a form. “The middle school band program will be so grateful for your support.”

Nathaniel wishes she hadn’t told him what it was for. Yes, he’s _good_ now, but really, middle school band? Maybe the good thing was to make sure that program stays dead so no one would have to hear their awful playing.

“Great. Oh wow,” Heather exclaims with the least amount of enthusiasm possible. “I got enough sign-ups. Yay. I’m like, so good at my job.”

“What team is unlucky enough to be matched up against me?” Nathaniel asks. Of course, if his company is going to participate in this endeavor, he plans to win; must use it as an opportunity to show potential customers how Mountaintop would crush the opposition in softball as well as in real estate law.

“Based on my super professional bracketing system, also known as the order people signed up, you’ll be going head to head with Rebetzel’s.”

Heather must have incredible vision because she seems to register Nathaniel’s reaction of consternation even though he’s quite sure he controlled his face expertly and couldn’t have knitted his eyebrows together more than a micrometer. But she must have noticed because she adds, “Unless that would be too weird for you.”

“No. It’s the opposite of weird. It’s perfectly normal for two business owners with no baggage between them to field teams against each other in a a charity softball tournament. That’s the most normal thing in the world.”

“Are you sure it’s okay? You seem a little more uptight than usual.”

“Believe it or not Heather, this is my normal state. I’m a competitive person.” It would be much more unnatural if he held back in any way simply because his opponent was… his ex? His… one that got away? He’s spent so long away from Rebecca, trying to get himself together, that he doesn’t really know how to describe where they stand anymore.

* * *

Rebecca is belting her way through “Whatever Lola Wants (Lola Gets)” when Nathaniel, brimming with masculine determination, strides out of the elevator and right up to the counter.

“Well hello gentle sir, long time no see,” Rebecca says in a vaguely medieval voice – how else do you greet someone you haven’t seen in a year, except for that one time at your debut songwriting performance when you were nervous as all heck and you barely remember if you even spoke to him that night, before he went back to Guatemala for six months? Does it call for a “Howdy” or a “You’ve grown so much”? She decides to stick to a more normal greeting. “How is settling in going?”

“I’m going to crush you.”

“Excuse me? You’re supposed to also say, “Hello, long time no see”, and crush me in _what?_ ”

“Mountaintop is playing Rebetzel’s in the tournament, and I thought it was polite to inform you of how badly you’re going to be crushed.”

The elevator dings, and Rebecca notices Heather sneaking out through the lobby behind Nathaniel and shoots her a glance. “Sorry, shoulda warned you about this but he he ran down those stairs, byeeeee” she says as she runs out the door.

Rebecca turns back to Nathaniel, who looks as tense as she’s ever seen him.“Are you okay, dude? I thought you were supposed to be all relaxed when you came back from your South American getaway.”

“I am perfectly relaxed!” he snaps. “I’m acting perfectly normal by treating this friendly competition as a competition.”

“You know it’s for charity, right?” Rebecca laughs.

“Yes, which is why I’m doing it, because I’m a very good person. Regardless, my reputation and the reputation of Mountaintop are still on the line here. I thought it only sporting to inform you that I’ve never lost a physical contest before and I don’t plan to start now.”

“Okay, if you wanna be weird, you can be weird.”

“I’m not weird. I am specifically not being weird!” Nathaniel says, losing his composure. “Does no one remember this is how I have always been?”

“Fine. If you wanna be really competitive that’s alright because I know who the greatest softball player in all of West Covina is and I’m going to get them for my team.” Rebecca smirks, and offers Nathaniel one of her fresh batch of pretzels, “Free sample?” knowing full well that he won’t consume the carbs it’s made of.

“We’ll see, Bunch. We’ll see who wins. It’s going to be me.”

Nathaniel strides outside, and Rebecca can’t help but notice how tight and cute his buns get when he’s tense. Stop, she reminds herself. You’re just two people who are not together… How else can she even put it? It’s been so long since she’s seen him, since she’s traded insults and one-ups, since she’s endlessly dissected each of those conversations the following day with Dr. Akopian. Whatever. She’s evolved now and so is he. They’ll be fine.

She pulls out her phone to send a quick message to Josh, then turns her _Damn Yankees_ back on and throws all her ambivalence into kneading dough.

* * *

  
Nathaniel is on a mission.

It was almost cute (not cute, not cute – amusing, not cute) that Rebecca thought she had some sort of secret information that would give her an upper hand in their game. It doesn’t take a degree from Stanford that the "best player in West Covina" she was referring to is Josh Chan (although even if it did, Nathaniel has one of those). 

So while Rebecca is busy listening to her stupid baseball musical and making pretzels like a sucker, Nathaniel is in his car driving down to Home Base to snatch up Josh Chan before Rebecca can recruit him.

He flirts with the outside of the speed limit, weaving in and out of traffic on East Cameron and makes it to Home Base in record time. He keeps his momentum, running from the car into the restaurant and almost crashing right into the bar.

“Hey Nathaniel! What’s up?” Josh greets him with trademark Josh Chan enthusiasm. “Some kind of new workout plan? Lunch break interval training? I can dig it. Did you pick that up in South America?”

“Guatemala is in Central America, dude,” Hector, sitting at the bar, corrects him.

“You. Me. Softball. Be my softball team,” Nathaniel manages, catching his breath.

“What?”

“Mountaintop is entering the softball tournament, and I want you to be on the winning team,” he manages once his lungs recover from the brief sprint.

Josh grimaces. “Well… I did just get a text from Rebecca asking if I’d be on her team.” He pauses to consider the issue as deeply as Josh can consider anything. “But, since you came all the way here… Okay! I’ll play for your team.”

“You won’t regret this,” Nathaniel says shaking Josh’s hand. Another deal closed. He hasn’t lost his mojo.

“If only there were some way I could play for _both_ teams,” Josh says, thoughtfully, as Hector snorts soda out of his nose.

* * *

  
“This is unsportsmanlike and unfair!” Rebecca says. She’d called Heather down to Rebetzel’s as the organizer of the event to moderate the Chan Custody dispute. 

Nathaniel is in fine insufferable form, dressed in his snarkiest suit today. “You’re just upset because I got Josh Chan, and you have no other plan.”

“I am not just upset that you ruined the Chan Plan!” Rebecca sputters. “Though man, I was a fan of the Chan Plan. But really, it’s an ethical issue. This kind of underhanded behavior – is this the example we want to set for those middle school kids? Do we want to teach them they should be stealing the rival marching band’s tubas?”

“That analogy really doesn’t make any sense, but I admire that you went for it anyway,” Heather says. “Also, just a reminder: it really doesn’t matter who wins this game. There is no prize on the line.”

“It matters!” Rebecca and Nathaniel snap at the same time.

Heather looks suspicious. “Should I swap the matchups around so you two aren’t against each other?”

“No!” Rebecca says quickly. “There’s no need for that. Why would you do that? You’d only swap the matchups if things were weird between us, which they’re definitely not. Right, Nathaniel?”

“It makes no difference to me if you swap us or not, because this is exactly how I’d act no matter who you match me up with,” Nathaniel says, stiffly. Rebecca had forgotten how infuriating he can be when he pretends to be so unaffected.

“Right,” Heather says. “It would be totally unlike the two of you to cause a huge scene and make the entire event about you, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m so glad you understand,” Rebecca says, hugging Heather.

“You understand I was being sarcastic, right?” Heather calls as she goes. “I haven’t lost my one thing? My one power? I’m boring and married now, sarcasm is all I have left.”

“Tell you what, Nathaniel,” Rebecca says once Heather is gone. “Take Josh. Take White Josh, too. Take all the Joshes you need, because I am going to put together an ah-mazing team of ladies who will show you that we don’t need a whole League of Our Own to whoop some boys’ butts.”

“I don’t even need to address the stupidity of that challenge right now, because on game day, the results will do it for me.”

Rebecca feels a flutter in her chest, of a kind she hasn’t felt for a long time – maybe a year. She’s been working on herself, taking some time away from dating, and the consistency and lack of drama have been great for her in more ways than she can count. She doesn’t miss the constant ups and downs, the ons and offs-again, the whiplash between trying to kill each other and hooking up in the supply closet.

But she missed this flutter in her heart, just a little bit.

There’s no room to deal with it right now though, especially when Nathaniel is determined to act like such a monkey butt. Rebecca fiddles with her apron, a new plan forming in her head. “Oh, Nathaniel. It’s on.”

* * *

  
Nathaniel must admit, he’s done an exemplary job pulling his team together. In only three days, he recruited Josh Chan and Josh Wilson – two of the most athletic guys in West Covina – plus Greg, who has been coming to the gym with Nathaniel lately and is shaping up passably, Hector, who might not have the same affinity for team sports as the Joshes but still has great coordination thanks to surfing; Darryl, whom Nathaniel was reluctant to trust but swears he played baseball all throughout college, Tim and Jim, who can at least hold a bat and ball, and George, who is aware he’s the weak link and carries himself with according humility.

Nathaniel invited the whole team over to his apartment for a strategy planning meeting, but apparently George _(George!)_ told everyone it was some sort of “Welcome Back” party to celebrate Nathaniel’s return to West Covina, which is ridiculous, because Nathaniel has already shared a face to face “hello” with each of these people which is all that’s required, right?

“Please, everyone, if you could put down the crudités for a few minutes so we can talk baseball?”

“Softball,” White Josh corrects him.

“Whatever kind of ball, we’re going to crush those girls,” Nathaniel says.

Greg makes a face. “We’re heading into dangerous territory with all this ‘ball’ talk. Also can I just mention that I also own a local business? Why did no one ask me to field a Serrano’s team?”

Hector jumps in quickly, “Probably your business is just too new, hasn’t become a staple of the community yet.”

“My dad ran that restaurant for twenty years.”

“Well, I’m sure my wife had a very good reason for not asking you,” Hector says, with a tone that says drop it.

“Greg, if you feel overlooked, let that fuel you to want to beat Heather and the rest of the team,” Nathaniel says. “We’ve all got to get angry if we want to win. Remember what’s at stake here!”

“The middle school band budget?” Tim asks.

“No, idiot, our pride!” Nathaniel says. “Our very masculinity!”

Darryl raises a hand hesitantly. “Is it okay if I focus on the school band instead? That’s a better motivator for me.”

Josh raises a hand as well. “Is there any way this could be about Red Pandas instead? We gotta raise money to save their habitat or else they’ll go extinct.”

“Canadians are also good at baseball,” Tim says, prompted by nothing and no one.

Nathaniel rubs his temples. Perhaps it’s going to take more work to get his team game-day ready than he thought.

* * *

  
“I thought there were going to be snacks.” Maya whines. “I’m missing Nathaniel’s Welcome Home party for this, and I can see on Josh’s Insta Story that they have crudités.”

“Nathaniel’s having a party and he didn’t invite me?” Heather asks. “That is so rude. After we’ve bonded and everything.”

“Nathaniel is not having a party and even if he is, it’s a dumb stupid party because he’s a dumb stupid _man,_ ” Rebecca says. “You are all lucky to be part of something much greater: womanhood, vis a vis this softball team, where we are going to beat his manly man team and make a great statement about feminism.”

“While we’re talking about feminism,” Maya begins, standing up on top of the ottoman like it’s a soapbox, “I want to say that I think it’s very regressive how this competition is not only reinforcing the falsity of the gender binary, but also in pitting men against women brings us all down when we could be working together to lift each other up from the chains of patriarchy that bind us all.”

“If you’ve got a problem, there’s the door,” Mrs. Hernandez says. “Some of us are here to win.”

“Oh no, I had to speak my truth for a minute, but I’m really thrilled to be a part of this. Let’s crush those boys, hashtag girl power!”

Rebecca rolls her eyes. “Right. Well. We need a plan in order to beat Nathaniel and his stupid snarky face. So. Does anyone have any plans or schemes to help us win?”

Everyone shifts silently for a minute, until Paula is the first to speak up. “Cookie, you know I’ll do anything for you, but I’m kinda hittin’ my limit just going out on that field on game day.”

“I’m committing a mild conflict of interest as the organizer by being a part of your team so I feel like openly rigging the game in your favor would be… not super ethical?” Heather says.

“C’mon guys, I need help. Anything. Really anything. I’ll take honest softball coaching tips at this point. Or just more players, because as you can see we’re a few shy of a team.”

Paula shrugs. “I can call Sunil and see if he’ll join. I think he’s a big fan of the Red Sox? He’s always going on about, ‘those damn Yankees’.”

“It’s a musical. God, he’s a useless nerd, but ask him. I guess we’re at that point.”

Then, Rebecca’s phone starts ringing with an incoming FaceTime call. “It’s Valencia! Maybe she’ll have some advice,” Rebecca says as she answers and angles the phone towards the whole room. “Hey V!”

“Hey – everyone! Oh, is this a bad time?” Valencia asks, noticing the crowd.

“No. It’s always a good time to hear from you. And Beth, I’m guessing? HI BETH!”

“Hi,” comes Beth’s tinny reply, and Valencia flashes the phone camera over to get a quick glimpse of her.

“So it’s actually perfect that you’re all here and I can let you know: I’ll be in back in town next week to go dress shopping with my mom.”

“Aw, you’re gonna get such a beautiful dress,” Maya says.

“Ew, not mine. Obviously I’m buying my wedding dress here in New York. But we’re picking out my mom’s dress.”

“That sounds about right,” Rebecca says, recalling the unpleasant experience that Valencia had the last time she tried on a wedding dress in West Covina. “Hey, if you’re here next weekend, any chance you’d be free to play in a softball game? It’s for charity. And for humiliating Nathaniel.”

Valencia makes a face and opens her mouth to offer some falsely kind rejection but before she an say anything, Beth’s voice comes through faintly and cuts her off. “Did you say softball?”

“Yeah, she did–” Valencia starts.

“I’m in!” Beth says, appearing on Rebecca’s screen as she wrests control of Valencia’s phone. “Ten years on a travel team, and it’s been way too long since I got the old cleats on.”

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah! And V will play too. I’ll convince her. It’ll be fun, sweetie.”

Rebecca can’t believe her luck. Clearly, the universe has not turned its back on her.

After exchanging a few more pleasantries and a group chorus of “byes”, Rebecca hangs up and clutches the phone to her heart. “Thank god for lesbians.”

* * *

  
Nathaniel shows up to the pre-game reception feeling a nine out of ten on the confidence scale, which converts to somewhere around a fourteen or fifteen for someone not raised in the Plimpton culture of unbridled arrogance. It bumps up to a nine-point-four when he sees the motley crew that appears in Rebetzel’s uniforms. Paula looks miserable and keeps muttering “just a couple hours”, Maya seems more preoccupied with figuring out what angle for her baseball cap will make for the cutest selfie than with warming up, and Sunil is using a bat like a cane in some sort of strange dance routine.

He decides the noble thing to do is to offer Rebecca one final chance to surrender before she embarrasses herself.

He saunters up to her, puffing out his chest. “So, are you still determined to go down in flames, or would you like to give it up now while you still have your dignity? And… _two_ sports bras?” he finishes with a questioning upturn in his voice as he notices the two different-colored straps peeking out from the neck of her uniform.

“Not a chance,” she replies, her voice ice and steel. “And for your information, strapping into two layers of sports bras is about a fifteen-minute affair for me, so I only do it when I really mean business.”

When she gets in his face like this – or, not in his face, but somewhere about his collarbone, really – his body betrays him, remembers things that his brain has tried so hard to suppress. Those days when he first arrived at Whitefeather and they fought like mad; or when she tried to get control of the firm back – rivalry masking deeper feelings.

But that is _not_ what’s happening now, he reminds himself. Right now he is being Nathaniel Plimpton III, a deadly competitive sportsman. It makes no difference who his opponent is; winning is what he does, and he does it any any cost.

“Good game?” she offers a handshake.

He refuses. “I’ll shake after I beat you.”

He’s in game mode. He can’t lose focus now. That’s how he’d comport himself against any opponent. It has absolutely nothing to do with his acute awareness that he hasn’t had physical contact with Rebecca in over a year. Nothing whatsoever.

* * *

  
Beth is a blessing. She really is. Without her, the Rebetzel’s team would surely be losing ten-nothing. Instead, they’re only losing four-nothing. Mrs. Hernandez turns out to be a rather competent (and aggressive) player as well, and Valencia, despite her displeasure at how she looks in the uniform, isn’t bad either since she’s so amazingly fit and coordinated, the rest of them are struggling to put up any fight against the boys.

The less-feminist part of Rebecca – the part that says in her mother’s voice, of course, _“I’m not a feminist, I’m a realist”_ – thinks that maybe there are some things guys are just better at, and that’s okay. If a team of nine of the fittest guys in town are gonna put on a show of athleticism to humiliate her in public… Well, maybe that’s not the worst thing. In fact, that sounds almost suspiciously similar to some of her porn keyword searches lately.

Focus, Bunch! This isn’t a masturbation fantasy, this is real life and those middle schoolers need music! She wishes there were something she could do, but… Rebecca knows her skills, and she knows athleticism has never been one of them.

The universe really does seem to be rooting for her though, when an obvious sign comes in the form of Josh diving to catch a pop fly and pulling a muscle. Everyone runs over to the outfield to check on him, and he waves them off – very macho – but accepts the ice pack that Heather fetches.

“I think it’s my pec,” he says, wincing. “I don’t want to let the kids down, but I don’t think I can play through this.”

“They’ll be fine,” Heather says. “Again, the results of this game have literally no bearing on the kids. It’s just a showcase fundraiser.”

“What a darn-tootin’ shame,” Rebecca says. Now that she knows Josh isn’t grievously hurt, she can feel okay about celebrating internally. “In light of this unfortunate turn of events, Nathaniel, no one will blame Mountaintop if you want to forfeit the game now.”

“Forfeit? We’re leading you by four points,” Nathaniel says. “No, we’re playing. And I’ll tell you what: we won’t even make you play man down.”

Rebecca wants so badly to wipe that smug smile off perfect strong-jawed face. Before she can retort, Paula pipes up, “I volunteer! I volunteer! I will… gladly make the sacrifice to sit out for the rest of the game. Oh, what a shame, but it has to be done.” Before Rebecca can protest, Paula is already running off to join Scott in the stands. So much for her advantage.

However, Rebecca has to admit, giving up Paula in order to take away Josh is hardly a balanced tradeoff, and that’s all it takes for Rebetzel’s to start catching up. Soon, the score is six-four, and the boys seem to be losing steam. It certainly doesn’t help that Nathaniel keeps blowing up at anyone who makes the slightest error.

“Are you blind? My grandmother could have caught that!” Nathaniel screams at Tim when he misses a catch by inches. Then, he catches himself, and sheepishly adds, “Is what I would say… if I were not a nice person. Good effort, Tim.”

As the errors pile up, Nathaniel gets worse at correcting himself. When Greg strikes out in the eighth inning, Nathaniel lets out a yell that necessitates Heather to remind him to “keep it PG please, or at least PG-13, this is for the kids.”

Finally, it’s the bottom of the ninth inning. Mountaintop leads Rebetzel’s, seven runs to six. 

Rebecca is up to bat. No, the bases aren’t loaded, and no, there aren’t two outs – in all likelihood Rebecca will strike out like she has all day, and then Beth will come up to the plate and (hopefully) hit a game-winner. But this is the closest Rebecca will get to the movie moment she’s been dreaming of, so she offers up a prayer to see if she can one more blessing for the day.

“Hey, Hashem,” she thinks in a vaguely upward way as she steps up to the plate. “I know I haven’t been to Synagogue in ages, since I don’t really jive with that whole organized part of Judaism anyway, and also that this sort of prayer isn’t really your purview, but it’d be really, really cool if you could just help me get one hit. To prove Jews can be good at sports! We have baseball, right? Sandy Koufax? He’s baseball, I think? Wow, I really don’t care about sports at all. Anyways, helping me get one hit would go a long way for the legacy of Jews, and women, and Jewish women, and – who am I kidding, I can’t bullshit you, you’re God. The truth is, I really just want to stick it to Nathaniel. But you can support that too, right? You’re a pretty vengeful God. And if there’s anyone who deserved some smiting – _light_ smiting, I mean, on a purely ego level – it’s him. Plus, this is all for _tzedakah_ , so it’s cool. Thank you and _Amen_.”

Hashem must’ve found the prayer charming, or funny, or pitiable, because when Hector throws the pitch, Rebecca squeezes her eyes shut and swings blindly and somehow manages to connect for the first time. 

The crack is louder than she expected, and so close to her head, and it makes her flinch and yelp and drop her bat. It’s a good two seconds or so before she realizes that she really did hit the ball, sending it to the infield between first and second base. 

_Crap on a cracker, bagel and schmear,_ she thinks. Now I have to run.

No longer in Hashem’s hands, she now entrusts her entire wellbeing to the two Athleta sports bras she has on, but as she runs for her life, she still feels less secure than she’d like. This is why women will never beat men at sports. Not because of muscle mass or bone structure or more aggressive socialization – because men don’t have to contend with Boob Jiggle.

Her lungs are already burning by the time she reaches first, and logically, she understands she should stop there. The game isn’t on the line; another person will step up to bat, and then she’ll get a chance to make it to second, but damn it, she’s never going to hit another softball in her life, so this is her only shot at a movie moment. She taps a foot on first and keeps running, causing Jim, the first baseman, to give her a surprised but approving look.

She vaguely registers yells from the dugout, some telling her to stop, some cheering wildly. She ignores them. She also sees that Greg has managed to get the ball, but is hesitating to throw it – is he baffled by Rebecca’s suicidal attempt to steal second, or is he trying to help her out? Rebecca hears Nathaniel screaming at Greg, ordering him to throw it as she hits second.

Now there’s no room left in her head for any kind of thoughts besides the overwhelming desire to stop running, but she’s gone too far to give up now. As she hits third, she really wonders why the ball hasn’t caught up with her yet – then she looks up and sees why. Nathaniel, who had clearly gone over to personally wrestle the ball from Greg’s hands, is now running towards Home Plate in a bizarre show of ego. Maybe he thinks that Rebecca’s kamikaze move deserves an equally crazy rebuttal, so instead of throwing it to George, the catcher, he’s running towards home plate with the ball in his hand. And it looks like he’ll beat Rebecca.

She closes her eyes again as she nears the plate, because, hey, it worked the first time, and the next thing she knows is a hard impact as she slams into Nathaniel’s body. He must’ve been unbalanced as he was running, because even though she’s much smaller she’s bowled him over and ended up on top of him in the dirt.

“Foul! Foul!” George repeats over and over, furiously.

As Rebecca gets up, she sees all the other players, and several of the spectators, running over to see what happened.

“I don’t think that’s what ‘foul’ means in baseball,” Greg says, responding to George’s cries.

“Whatever you wanna call it, it was egregious,” White Josh says.

“Oh come on,” Rebecca says, beginning to sweat under their disgusted glares – or maybe just from the exertion of the base running. “Haven’t you seen _A League of Their Own_? When Lori Petty tackles Geena Davis at the end and everyone cheers?”

“That’s a movie, cookie,” says, Paula, joining them form the stands.

George raises a hand in an vaguely official gesture. “Motion to disqualify Rebetzel’s on the grounds of unnecessary violence.”

Mrs. Hernandez scoffs. “If you can’t handle a little roughness, get off the field, you pansy.”

Both teams erupt into argument – about whether or not Rebecca was safe, whether or not a penalty should be assessed, whether or not the game should continue – and everyone seems to forget Nathaniel, until he sits up and waves a hand. 

“Guys, it’s no big deal. I’m fine.” Rebecca gasps, and as the others notice his face, it elicits a chorus of other shocked noises, because a large bruise is already appearing over Nathaniel’s left eye.

George twiddles his fingers. “I’m gonna go get some ice…”

Nathaniel looks to Rebecca. “What is it?”

Rebecca bites her lip. “I think I boobed ya.” Nathaniel frowns, and touches his eye gingerly, wincing at the contact. 

Heather puts her face in her hands. “Yeah, we’re gonna call the game there. Gonna have to give out a lot of ten percent off coupons to make up for this one.”

Rebecca holds out a hand to help Nathaniel up. This time, he takes it.

As she walks with him back towards the restaurant, she hears White Josh saying to Darryl behind them, “See? _This_ is what breasts get ya!”

* * *

  
Nathaniel presses the ice pack against his eye as he slides into the vinyl booth across from Rebecca. 

“Think that ten percent off for all the people at the game applies to us?” Nathaniel asks.

“Probably not, since we’re the reason Heather had to offer that,” Rebecca replies. “But I don’t care, I’m starving.”

“Wanna split some fries?” 

Rebecca gives him the most incredulous look he’s ever seen on her. “Fries? Really?”

“Contrary to popular belief, I am a human who indulges occasionally.”

“I know. I’m surprised you’re letting me witness it, though.” Rebecca smiles. That small smile she does, when something isn’t enough to merit a gushing of her postive thoughts, but it just… warms her up.

“You really got me good,” he says.

“I would apologize, but isn’t it the Plimpton Way to try to win at all costs, or something?”

“Yes. I respect your prideful unwillingness to give up, Even though the wisest course of action would’ve been to stay on first. And my father would be too – before he yelled at you for screwing up the game.”

“Good to know I could be a Pimpton if I tried.”

“You could never be a Plimpton. Not that you’d want to. No fries allowed.”

As if on cue, Heather comes by with a basket of fries, but as Rebecca and Nathaniel both reach for them, she pulls them back, saying “Ah ah ah – you only get these fries if I know you’ve sorted out this weirdness that made you cause a huge scene at my event.”

“We’re vewwy vewwy sowwy, Heather,” Rebecca says, pouting sweetly. “We didn’t mean to.”

“Weirdness is gone,” Nathaniel says. “Aside from whatever weirdness she’s doing right now.” But that kind of weirdness is normal, for Rebecca.

“It’s okay, because aside from the two of you, all the other games went off without a hitch, and we raised enough money to guarantee at least a year of arts funding for the middle school. I’m like, really good at my job,” Heather says, then plops the fries onto the table, with a final command: “Talk. Like grown-ups.”

“If I could offer a bit of advice?” Nathaniel says, reaching out for a fry. “Maybe three sports bras next time.” The salty crisp of the fry explodes in his mouth, as he rarely eats anything that rich. It’s a welcome distraction.

“I don’t foresee a next time anytime soon. That was definitely the peak of my softball career. But note taken.”

“Seriously. I thought I knew your breasts? But I was blissfully unaware of how much damage they could do.”

“I got them heavy boobs,” Rebecca says, under her breath.

“What?”

“Uh, nothing. This little bit of a song that won’t leave me alone. But it’s stupid.”

“Sing more of it?” Nathaniel asks. He knows Rebecca’s been working on more songs, but he’s been away, he hasn’t been able to hear any of them in ages.

Rebecca blushes as she sings, “I got them heavy boobs, heavy boobs, dense like dying stars.” She gets more into it as she continues, losing her self-consciousness. Nathaniel can’t help from laughing as she leaps into the second verse, cradling her boobs as she sings, until Heather comes back over to ask if “you could maybe not sing about your breasts in this family restaurant full of families who already have been traumatized by your boob-related violence once today?”

“See? Stupid, right?” Rebecca says, grabbing a few more fries.

“It’s very… you,” Nathaniel replies, then, upon seeing the indignant look on Rebecca’s face, clarifies, “Which is to say it’s not stupid! I missed hearing your songs.”

“I missed this,” Rebecca says. “You were gone. I missed you. But more than that I missed this. Us talking. And being… not weird.”

Nathaniel plays with his napkin, then freezes, remembering all the times his father told him “Fidgeting is an outlet of the weak-minded.”

“I missed being not weird, too.”

“It’s been a long time,” Rebecca says. “I’ve been working on myself…”

“I have too.”

“I know,” Rebecca sighs. “And neither of us want to jeopardize how far we’ve come, but… do you think we could be not-weird, together? Is that too crazy to think of?”

For all the times Nathaniel has gotten ‘with’ Rebecca, or ‘back with’ her, the cynical, vulnerable child inside his soul cries out, no, don’t believe it, this will only lead to another breakup.  
But most of him has faith that this might be the last time they get together. And that the last breakup might have already happened.

He’s tired of thinking it over; he spent enough time while he was in Guatemala thinking over everything that had happened, had never happened, or could’ve happened between him and Rebecca. He’s sick of thinking; he wants to act. So he does. He leans across the table to kiss her.

“Crazy is a loaded word,” he says, once he pulls away. “I think we can handle it.”

For one of the rare few times in his lie, Nathaniel relaxes. He doesn’t know what will happen down the road, but what he does know is that sitting here, talking with her again… feels “not-weird”, for the first time since he’s been back. It’s the most “not-weird” he’s ever felt in his whole life.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I don't know much about softball and most of my research for this fic involved watching A League of Their Own and listening to Damn Yankees - I'm basically Rebecca in that way.
> 
> Hope it was enjoyable in spite of that. Happy Valentine's day <3


End file.
